Godfather Death
by Alone Dreaming
Summary: Jake is sick of magic beans and Will recieves his comeuppance in the form of a furious brother. No slash.
1. Magic Beans and Lotte

_**Godfather Death**_

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Dedicated to: My Joker and my Steph for being such wonderful support and giving me ideas. **

**Author's Note: This is a prequel to the movie and the only real AUness about it is that I made both Jakob and Wilhelm younger at the time of Lotte's death. Will is still the older brother, though. Also, this story is fully written (for if I write stories more than one chapter, I always complete them before I post) but I would like feedback to ensure me it's worth my time and energy to edit and post the next chapter. Please enjoy!**

**Warnings: Angst, a bit of descriptive sickness, and absolutely no slash

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Jakob Grimm sat on the uncomfortable bed, staring at the fireplace. He was considering lighting it for he was feeling unpleasantly cold. It would be nice to have the warmth after such a miserable day but after a few minutes of pondering, he decided against it. Despite the fact that he really wanted the fire, both for light and heat, his body was protesting against any kind of movement what-so-ever. He ached so badly that he didn't have the will to shift so the bed would be more comfortable. '_What a way to finish this day up,_' he thought with a groan. '_A hard bed and a cold, dark room._'

It was like some sick practical joke that God was pulling on him. He had just finished one of the most miserable days of his life and to top it off, he wasn't going to sleep well. He had woken up with the apprehensive feeling that the day would not go well. The first thing he had noticed in the morning was his sore body, though at the time he had blamed it on the bed, and exhaustion. His throat had ached a bit as well, along with his head and stomach, and he had been fighting the urge to cough. All of it made him particularly foul tempered, which was most unlike him, and utterly pessimistic.

Usually when he felt this way, he would simply stay in bed and tell Will he was too sick to do anything. Then he would lie there, bemoaning his sorry situation for a few grand minutes before going to sleep. Unlike his brother, he didn't fuss very much about anything and found it better to rest than whine while he was ill. Will didn't complain, at least not often, about Jake being ill. He even was sympathetic most of the time and if he wasn't, he did believe Jake. Jake was barely ever sick and had never once pretended to be so to avoid work.

Jake had attempted to tell his brother that he wasn't up to par that morning. He had followed Will around like a puppy but every time he tried to say something, his brother was engrossed in another conversation or simply ignored him. After many fruitless attempts, Jake had given up. Clearly Will was too distracted to care and Jake, despite his crankiness, admitted that it was a bad day to be ill and his brother would need him. They had an "exorcism" to perform on an "evil spirit" in a cave just outside the village. Jake had decided that he would get that done and then crawl into bed and sleep.

And he had mostly done what he had planned. Just one thing had occurred that he hadn't even dreamed of. Even in his sickly, angry state of mind, he had never thought about it. He had never considered that he would fight with Will and instead of earning his pity, earn his anger. He hadn't thought that the comments he heard so often would set him off. After all, he had dealt with them so many times before...

_"I think my arm's broken," Hidlick wailed, clutching his limb to his chest. "I can't move it! Look at it!"_

_The arm did look quite bruised and it was swelling a bit but there was no other unnatural look about it. Hidlick, however, wasn't to be consoled. He sat on the dirt covered cave floor, whimpering and refusing to allow Jake or Will to get a good look at it. Jake had decided that he didn't care after trying several times and was removing his armor while Will continued his attempts to check the arm. Bunst, meanwhile, was sitting on a ledge near the roof of the cave looking rather upset._

_Will shook his head and patted Hidlick on the shoulder, "I don't think it's broken but it does look like it hurts..." _

_"You aren't a doctor," Hidlick pointed out with a sniff. "It hurts like hell, much worse than the other times I injured it." _

_Bunst peered down from the shelf and said meekly, "'m sorry Hidlick." _

_"It's not your fault, Bunst," Will replied, and while Hidlick glanced up, grabbed his friend's arm. Hidlick howled, Jake jerked and Bunst nearly fell from his ledge. Will, ignoring it all, felt up and down the limb, frowning. "I really don't think it's broken, Hidlick..."_

_Hidlick tore his arm away, and backed away from Will. He looked rather ridiculous, still being half-dressed in his demon garb. "That hurt." _

_"I'm sorry," Will said, not sounding at all sincere. He was grinning a bi now that he was sure his friend was alrightt. "I'm sure you'll be fine, though. Now," he tossed a bag of coins to Hidlick, "there's a town to the north that has a problem with a stubborn banshee. Jake and I'll stop by in about two weeks..."_

_"Two weeks isn't enough time for my arm to heal," Hidlick whined. _

_He really did have a reason to fuss, Jake thought, struggling with the armor. During the "fight with the evil demon," the pulleys holding Hidlick up had come free and he had crashed into a wall. Only Will's quick thinking and fast action had stopped Hidlick from being seriously injured and the hoax from being revealed. As far as the villagers knew, the evil demon had been badly affected by a cross Jake had been holding and Hidlick, from as far as Jake could tell, was fine except for some bruises. _

_Will patted Hidlick's shoulder, ignoring the apprehensive look Hidlick was giving him. "No worries, my friend, I'm sure Jake here," he motioned to his brother, "has some magic beans that can fix you in a second." _

_It was meant to be a joke, the usual raillery between two brothers. However, there was always the hint of blame hidden beneath the words, always the reminder of what had happened thirteen years before. Jake bit his lip, trying to hold his tongue and not say anything. Anymore, he said little in response to such comments. He would look sad, he would whisper something unintelligible, but he would never go against it. But for some reason, he couldn't hold his tongue. _

_"Stop it, Will," he said, his voice rough from illness and aggravation. "It isn't funny." _

_Will didn't seem to understand that Jake was on the edge of breaking. He continued smile in his cocky manner and said, "Oh, I forgot. Magic beans only cure coughs..."_

_"It is enough, Will," Jake cried, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I don't need you to remind me of the mistake I've regretted every day of my life since I was ten." _

_It was then that something in the air changed. Everyone recognized it, though the Grimm brothers sensed it much less than Hidlick and Bunst did. Both of them looked away and Bunst hurriedly busied himself with the different ropes and harnesses while Hidlick, his injured arm quite forgotten, began to shed his demon suit. Rarely did they see the Grimm brothers fight but when they did, they tried to make it appear as though they weren't listening. It was hard. The fights were always loud and vicious. _

_Will's face had tinged a slight pink color and his eyes were filled with fire. His voice trembled a bit when he spoke, "A mistake, was it? So, now we're reducing Lotte's death to a mistake. Just a terrible, awful, tragic mistake. There was no way to fix it or anything. No one had a chance to, perhaps, trade a cow for some medicine, food and firewood?"_

_"I know," Jake snapped in reply. "I know! Do you think I am proud of myself for it? Do you really think I don't blame myself for it every day? Do you really think I need you reminding me? I hate what I did, Will! I hate myself for being so stupid, so... so ignorant! Does that make you feel better, Will? I hate myself and I don't need you blaming me for Lotte's death. I already do that plenty on my own." _

And he had stormed away, unable to take anymore comments. He had thought about going straight back to the room, but fearing that Will would follow him, he took a roundabout way to the town. On the way, he had stopped and retched into a patch of bushes. At the time, he thought it was nerves. He rarely stood up to his brother, ever, and doing so had left him so emotionally twisted that he had felt physically dizzy. Now, he knew that it wasn't just the anger, guilt and regret. It was also the sickness that was dragging him down.

Will hadn't come searching for him and it had been hours. Clearly, his brother was too angry to continue the confrontation, Jake decided. That and he always joined in the celebrations after the "exorcisms." He was most likely down wooing innocent ladies and having a good time. It was a possibility that he had even forgotten what had occurred for the time being. Jake didn't know what combination of things it was, but Will hadn't looked for him and clearly wasn't planning on it.

Now, feeling as poor as he did, Jake wished he had held his temper. He desperately wanted someone to care just a bit about how he was feeling. He wanted someone to build up the fire and pat him on the head. It would be so nice to have someone like that, someone like his mother, who had cared even though he had caused Lotte's death. When he had hurt himself or had been upset by Will's anger at him, she had still loved him. She hadn't blamed him like Will had. Even though her daughter's death had brought her own decline towards the grave, she had never once pointed a finger at her son. If anything, she had loved him all the more.

His stomach churned a bit and he leaned back against the headrest. When Will came back, lady friends or no, he would apologize. He would say how sorry he was for fighting. He would tell Will what an ass he had been thirteen years before and what an ass he had been that day. Maybe then Will would forgive him a little or at least notice that he was not well. He wanted comfort.

Mustering up the lingering bits of strength in his limbs, he grabbed his book from the bedside table. He would stay awake until Will came back with whatever lady friend he may have picked up and then request to speak to him privately for a moment. Then he could go to sleep with a piece of mind. With a pained cough, he flipped through the pages of his book and began to read.

* * *

He awoke with a start and rolled over to the edge of the bed just in time to vomit. There was nothing really in his stomach but the bit of bile and water that was there came up easily and splattered on the floor. The action burned his throat and caused him to start coughing the same way he had the night before. It sounded worse now, though, and he felt as though the sleep had done him more harm than good. Groaning, he rolled back and weakly wiped his sleeve across his mouth. 

He didn't recall falling asleep nor did he recall his brother coming back in the room. However, Will was there, sleeping in the other bed. How he didn't hear the hacking and the stomach purging was beyond Jakob, for it sounded incredibly loud to him. '_He must have gotten up here very late,_' Jake rationalized, hand on middle. '_He's exhausted._'

There was light coming in through the dusty window and from what Jake could tell, the sun had been up for a few hours at least. If he listened carefully, he could hear the town going about its daily business outside. Children were laughing, dogs were barking and adults were shouting. It was clear proof that the world kept on going even if one person felt awful.

Jake looked over at Will, knowing he was in need of some sort of help. He had never felt this ill before and it was making him nervous. Another cough crept up on him and tears of pain came to his eyes. When he got his breathing under control again, he glanced hopefully at his brother. He was disappointed. Will was still sound asleep, the coughing not bothering him at all. He was alone in the bed, his arms wrapped around a pillow and his head resting on the mattress.

Clearly coughing and throwing up was not going to bring his brother out of his late night partying and alcohol induced slumber. Jake weighed his options. He could lie here, feeling awful and pray that someone came to check on them and noticed he was ill. Or, he could struggle out of bed and wake up Will. Neither one of them seemed like pleasant options. On the one hand, he could wait hours and hours before someone checked in or Will came to. On the other hand, walking the mere six feet to Will's bed seemed like an undoable task.

He finally settled on a third option. Hoping that his voice would stay with him, he called out, "Will..."

He sounded awful even to his own ears. His voice was a cracked and broken whisper and Will didn't even twitch. In fact, he almost seemed to be sleeping more peacefully than before. Feeling very weak and slightly frustrated, he tried calling again, putting more force into his voice this time. The action caused him to cough and he was bent in half before he knew it. The edges of his vision began to blacken as his oxygen deprived brain began to shut down once more and he stared into the dying fire wondering if this would be the last time he would be awake.

"Jake!" a little voice cried, and a small face appeared before his eyes. "Jake! Are you feeling sick?" A sweet smile graced the lips of the child and she fiddled with her long, dark hair. "Do you want me to wake up Mama and Will?"

Had his mind been a little less foggy, he would have been sure he was hallucinating. She couldn't be standing there at the foot of the bed, her face full of love and health. He hadn't seen her in thirteen years and she hadn't looked so healthful in over fourteen. But there she was, in her favorite dress, her hair pulled up half-way with a ribbon and her large brown eyes filled with the adoration she had for both her older brothers. She tilted her head to the side.

"I think you are sick, Jake," she said, now looking slightly worried. "I'm going to get Mama and Will. They'll know how to make you feel better."

His head was spinning but the coughing spell had ended and he could breathe again. Between gasps, he murmured, "L-Lotte?"

"Of course, silly," she replied, reaching out and brushing her hand against his head. "I'll go get Mama and she can send Will for the doctor. That will make it all better."

"No...pl-please..." he whimpered, trying to catch her hand but failing. "D-don't...leave..."

She looked very confused and put out her lip as she often did when she didn't understand. "But, Jake, I can't get Mama unless I leave and you don't feel very well..."

"Stay," he begged. "D-don't leave me...again... I l-love you... I'm s-so sorry..."

She put her hand on his head once more and he didn't realize that he couldn't feel it. Her eyes glowed a bit, filled with concern. "I love you, too, Jakey. Don't be sad. I'll always love you. I'm going to wake up Will first and he'll stay with you while I get Mama. She'll make it all better."

"Wait," he whispered, but she was already gone. He was sure he could still hear the soft padding of her feet and smell the flowers she wore around her neck but he couldn't see her. The room was empty again except for Will and him. "L-Lotte.."

"Here, Jake," came a whisper somewhere near his ear. "I'm just waking up Will!"

"Wh-" he began but was stopped by another coughing spell. He couldn't seem to get them to stop. His lungs were seizing, expelling the bit of air he had acquired. His vision was darkening again and a roaring filled his ears. He was going to die now, with his sister gone, his brother asleep and his mother not present. He had never thought he would die alone.

He barely heard the cursing coming from the other bed and the yelp that accompanied it. He was fully absorbed in his world which consisted of his failing body and his darkening mind. In fact, he didn't realize that someone was beside him until hands grasped his shoulders and a frightened voice called for him.

"Jake? Jake! What's wrong?" the voice said, and one of the hands moved to his face. "Jake, can you hear me?"

He could hear the person but he couldn't say so. He was so tired, so worn out and so ready to rest. A long peaceful sleep was very appealing. '_Perhaps, this is how Lotte felt,_' his blurred mind thought. '_Just ready to sleep._'

"I'm going to get Mama now, Jake," Lotte said in his ear. "Will is going to watch you until I come back with Mama."

"Lotte," he whispered in reply. "D-don't..."

"I love you, Jake," she murmured. "Don't be scared. Will is going to be here while I'm gone."

But he was scared. He was terrified even. Didn't she know that he and Will were on very bad terms? She had to realize that! It was because he had made such a rash decision that had ultimately led to her death. She couldn't leave him here, alone, with his brother who was angry at him. She had to stay and care for him. Will could always go fetch Mama.

And in a brief moment of lucidity, he realized that his mother and Lotte were dead and that there was no way that either of them were coming.

"Jake?" the voice asked again. "Jake? You have a fever. Why didn't you say something?"

He knew that it was Will who was talking to him and he was confused. Will sounded almost frantic with worry. There was no anger in his tone like there had been earlier in the day. The blame was gone as well but Jake found that he was still frightened. What if Will remembered that it everything was Jake's fault? What if he left as well?

"'m sorry," Jake mumbled. "Didn't w-want to w-wake you... L-lotte s-said sh-she should though."

The response didn't calm Will at all. He seemed to grow more agitated and pressed Jake back against the flat pillow, dragging the blankets over him. "Lotte? Jake, Lotte's..." He trailed off for a moment and chewed on his lip. "I'm going to fetch a doctor. You need a doctor."

"No!" Jake cried as loud as he could, which was really just a rasping whisper. "D-don't leave me... I kn-know your m-mad... j-just wait until L-lotte comes back with M-mama. Please?"

"Jake," Will said slowly, his voice shaking. "They aren't coming. They're dead, remember?"

He did remember but for some reason, he couldn't make sense of it. His feverish mind kept insisting that Lotte had just been there, saying that she was going to fetch Mama. Lotte had never lied to him before, he rationalized, shivering under the blankets. It only made sense that Mama and Lotte were both still alive. They had to be.

"B-but sh-she was there. Sh-she woke you up," he whispered. "Sh-she said you w-would stay..."

Will shook his head, his hand on his brother's cheek. "She wasn't here, Jake. She's dead. I woke up because of your coughing." He pursed his lips. "Jake, I'm going to leave for a little bit. It'll only take me a minute, I promise."

"N-no!" he begged, grasping the front of Will's shirt with one shaking hand. "Pl-please st-stay...I..."

His lungs protested horrendously and the painful coughing began again. The hand wrapped about his brother's shirt released almost immediately, moving to his chest instead as though it could stop the coughing. Will, meanwhile, forced him to sit up, and rubbed his back, looking completely helpless. Even Jake's fuzzy, fever twisted mind could see that Will wanted to bring back a doctor but didn't want to leave Jake hacking and frightened.

At some point, he blacked out. It wasn't for a long time but it was long enough for Will to rush out of the room and leave him alone again. A familiar fear grasped him once more, and he struggled to follow Will. His limbs did not agree with this pursuit and instead of helping him move, they lay limply on the bed. He was left to wait, praying that his brother would return or that his mother or Lotte would appear. He couldn't stand being alone.

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**TBC

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**Please review! I need to know if the next chapter is worth posting!**


	2. The Monster and The Doctor

_**Godfather Death**_

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Dedicated: Still to my darling Joker and my wonderful Steph for making this possible. A very special thanks to Steph for, well/silly grin/ telling me a bedtime story! Now, I must also add it's dedicated to everyone who read and reviewed. I've never had such wonderful support on a story before and it made my day(s) to come home and see all the responses! You all know who you are and it means so very much. I'd list you but I fear how our beloved network would respond so- for now- thank you!**

**Author's Note: This is the final chapter for this story but I am hoping to write a sequel! It will take me a while, I'm afraid, because I have an original story due and I have school to work around. However, it is in the works so never fear. This chapter is a bit darker, as a warning to all. Please, as always, be lenient about spelling and grammar. I lack a beta, and often miss things when I re-read my stories. Lastly, I want to correct something I said in the last chapter. Jake is officially the older brother in this. I made the mistake of saying Will is /sighs at own stupidity/ but I enjoy seeing Jake as the elder brother. There's something ironic about it. **

**Warnings: Sickness, extreme angst, a touch of horror (for those who, like myself and Jake, see the monsters hiding in the corners) and absolutely no slash.

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The shadows in the room seemed to move on their own accord, coming towards him. He had always feared the monsters under the bed and the creatures that hid in the corners at night. Even as an adult, he had to admit he did not enjoy being alone when it was dark. There was something about it that made him nervous and the only thing that would calm him was the company of others. That, of course, was when he felt normal, not when he felt unwell. His natural phobia combined with the delusions of an overheated mind had him sure that the shadows were taking shape at the foot of his bed. 

A figure was standing there, formed out of the shadows. The hands that formed were those of a skeleton's and those hands clutched a vapory scythe with a blade that both gleamed in the light and seemed dull. The creature was dressed in a dark black cloak that rippled about it as though there was wind in the room. Folds of shimmering black material covered the thing's face but Jake was sure that he could see glowing pale eyes peering at him.

His heart leapt into his throat and his breathing grew all the more aggravated. He didn't have the energy or the breath to scream. All he could do was stare in horror at the thing that was hovering over him, weapon in hand as though ready to strike. Where was his family? He needed them to prove to him that this was just a hallucination, that his mind playing tricks on him. They had to save him or it would kill him.

He expected it to attack at any second but it stood passively, hands on its scythe, watching him. '_What could it possibly be waiting for?_' he cried silently. '_Is this one last bit of torture before I die? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?_' It was a rhetorical question to him. This creature was obviously here to avenge little Lotte's death. This knowledge didn't erase any of his fear but it made him wish that the inevitable would simply occur.

"Oh, thank God you were passing! He fell ill so suddenly," a voice panted as someone came into the room. "I- I don't know what's wrong!"

"I'm sure it only looks bad. Nothing to worry about."

Jake's attention shifted to the doorway to find Will standing there with a young man he did not recognize. It didn't matter. He only wanted Will anyway. Whoever this new person was, that person was superfluous. He needed his brother to make the demon at the foot of his bed disappear and leave him to rest.

"W-will," he stuttered, shivering fiercely. It was so cold. "Will... m-make it go away."

Will rushed to his side, sitting down on the bed. He grasped one of Jake's limp hands, giving him a shaky smile. "Easy, easy, Jake... It's alright. See, I'm back just like I said."

Will didn't seem to take much notice of the thing at the foot of the bed but Jake could not tear his eyes off of it. "M-make it go away," he repeated with a moan. "M-make it leave."

"Make what go away, Jake?" Will asked, his eyes passing right over the hovering monster. He searched the room, trying to seek out the offensive object but eventually he gave up.

"Th-the..." He didn't know what to call it and let out a hoarse whimper as it leaned closer to him. "Pl-please... t-tell it t-too go..."

Will turned from him to look at the young man once more. "He's delirious," Will said, aghast. "He's seeing things..."

The young man was hanging back in the doorway, his hand on the frame. Small glasses framed his thin, pale face and his non-descript black hair was tied back with a bit of string. He was staring at the end of the bed, a frown on his face. In his hand, he held a medical bag filled with supplies that he used to cure the sick in his village. His clothing was average, peasant clothing. Overall, he did not seem special at all except for his eyes. Beneath his spectacles, this young man had pale eyes that seemed to glow. And when Jake saw that, he let out a soft cry and tried to hide.

The young man didn't seem fazed. Approaching slowly, he kept his eyes focused on the end of the bed. "Perhaps not as delirious as you think." He walked around the bed, onto Jake's other side. Placing the bag down on the bedside table, he grasped Jake's face in his hands, ignoring the struggling and whimpers. "Look at me," he commanded softly.

But Jake didn't want to look at him. He didn't want to see those eyes that looked so stunningly similar to the eyes of the thing at the foot of his bed. They sent terror through him and deepened the cold in his limbs. Even the hands on his face made the chill grow and sink into his very bones. He would rather look at his brother, who radiated warmth. He knew his brother hated him, but the warmth coming from him promised to lift the ice from his veins. And yet, despite what he wanted, he found himself staring into the hard, pale eyes.

"He's dying," the man said finally, his hands still holding Jake's face in place. "He's beyond my help."

It wasn't the answer Will had been looking for. From the look on his face, it wasn't the answer he had been expecting either. He sat silently, stunned by this announcement. He stared at the man, as though not understanding what he had said. "Wh-what?"

The young man sighed. Not in a sad, sorry way but instead, as though he was used to such reactions. He was still staring into Jakob's eyes and stilling his squirming. "He's too far gone. There's nothing I can do for him. I'm..." He paused and sighed. "I'm sorry..."

Will was speaking the same words he had spoken when Lotte had laid dying. _"No, no...there has to be something..."_ was a familiar mantra. Jake barely heard it, barely comprehended the new lines _"He just fell ill..."_ and _"He's my brother...h-he's all I have left."_ He was mesmerized by the glowing pale eyes staring into his own, keeping him from looking at the demon at the end of his bed. They were so similar to the demon's eyes, so haunting and he thought that maybe he could handle looking at the beast if he could be free of them.

And while watching those eyes, he forgot to do something important. It was something he rarely forgot to do. Every now and again, when he was frightened it would slip his mind for mere seconds but he always remembered eventually. Be it on his own accord or because his brother and friends reminded him, he never ceased to do it for more than a minute or so. This time, however, no one reminded him and he didn't remember. But with those eyes staring at him, breathing seemed like such an insubstantial thing. His vision darkened, and the last thing he could recall was the pale eyes watching him go.

* * *

His glasses weren't on. That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up. Usually, he fell asleep with them on and woke up with them still perched on his nose. He had to admit it was quite a trick that took him a long time to accomplish but he had managed it. Sometimes they would slip off, but opening his eyes and finding them not on was bizarre. Not to mention, he couldn't remember where he had left them. 

He stared at the blurry ceiling, pondering where he was. It was something he often did when he awoke disoriented. Very often he was in a new, unfamiliar place and he would have to recall what village they were swindling. It was a familiar feeling but one he usually could put to rest rather fast. It was his knowledge, after all, that allowed them to do what they did and he could bring up a village and it's superstitions in an instant. So, it was disturbing that this time, he couldn't recall where he was. He couldn't even recall what he had been doing before he had gone to bed.

Shifting his overly heavy body, he stopped staring at the roof and looked to the side. Next to him, Will was slumped over in a chair, sleeping. His head was to the side, resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His mouth was open slightly and he was snoring very softly. A cloth that had been damp at one point rested on his leg, soaking his pants on one side. He seemed rather pale, Jake noted, and the dark shadows under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept well in a while. Once again his memory failed him, for he couldn't come up with a reason for Will to sleep well. Will usually slept like one dead from the moment he laid down to the moment he awoke unless he had a lady friend with him.

He wanted his glasses. Tilting his aching, leaden head, he studied the bedside table in search of them. With skewed vision, he took in the large bowl perched there along with a tub of some sort of paste and a cup of water. Towards the one side, he could see a mug of something and a few jars of unidentifiable substances. On the far corner, he discovered what he was looking for. His glasses were resting haphazardly there, beyond his reach. Slightly frustrated, he let out a sigh and decided to search out his book. Perhaps it would be easier to get a hold of. He didn't feel like moving much.

His book was not on the bedside table and a painfully slow look around the bed proved that he hadn't fallen asleep reading it. The inability to see any distance kept him from checking if it was on the floor and his inability to move kept him from sitting up and looking on the table in the corner. However, the realization that he had no idea where he had put his book sent a sense of fear through him. He always knew where his book was, no matter what. It was where he kept all his stories. Looking back at the bedside table and finding it empty still, he looked at Will, wondering if he should wake his clearly exhausted brother up to ask where it was.

And that was when he noticed the book resting over his brother's knee. It was on the leg without the towel, much to his relief. To his agitation, though, it was open and resting straight down. That was one of the worst things a person could do to a book and Will knew it. Jake reminded him constantly, especially when Will took to looking at HIS book. It would destroy the binding and wrinkle the pages. Jake cringed simply looking at it and found himself feeling sick.

Actually, he had felt sick before this, he just hadn't noticed. It was as though he was getting over being ill and he was worn out. He didn't remember being sick, though, and as he reached to grab the book from Will's knee, he wondered if he was coming down with something. It would explain why he was tired, aching, and had a strange tickle in his lungs.

His hand slipped and hit Will's leg instead. The book tumbled from where it was balanced and hit the floor with a slap. Will jerked away with a yelp and Jake watched with horror as his brother's foot came down on the helpless book. There was the sound of tearing pages filled Jake's ears and a loud thump followed as his brother crashed to the floor.

"M-my book," he choked out, his voice nearly non-exsistant. He couldn't see the book but the sounds had engraved the picture of ripped pages.

From the ground, he heard a groan from his brother. "My head..."

"W-will," Jake mumbled around the tightness in his throat. "My-"

Will's exclamation cut him off. "Jake!" In a flash, Will was on his feet and sitting on the edge of Jake's bed. He wrapped his hands around one of Jake's. "I thought you were going to sleep for eternity like some of the people in the legends. How do you feel?"

Jakob Grimm had found, from experience, that when he was very sick or badly injured, he had a tendency to become single minded. His energy was always limited and instinctively, he focused it on completing one task at a time. Currently, the one thing on his mind was the book which had been crushed. He really didn't care how he felt or how long he had slept. He didn't really want to find out why Will looked so relieved or even why he had been sleeping in a chair. He wanted to make sure his book was alright.

"B-book," he gasped, his dry and sore throat refusing to produce any more words.

Will looked confused for a brief moment and then looked down at the floor. "Ah! Sorry, I was," he reached down and scooped it up. To Jake's relief, the pages looked ruffled but not beyond repair. "I was reading it... Last night..." He trailed off and ran his hand over the cover, tracing the lettering on the front cover. "They're good stories, Jake." He carefully cleared some room on the bedside table and put the book down. "But never mind that, how do you feel? I've been worried about you."

Now that the book was taken care of, Jake's mind was slowly settling onto another straight path. Registering his brother's questions, he put them into a secondary importance. There were other things that mattered more, such as his need for his glasses. He hated not being able to see things clearly. However, there was something that even took precedence over the glasses. Something he had ignored for a bit in order to ensure the security of his book. He couldn't ignore it any longer.

"W-water?" he rasped, his throat aching.

"Of course," Will replied, snatching up the glass on the bedside table. With an extreme amount of care, he lifted his brother's head and held the glass to his lips. The amount of worry and gentleness that Will was exhibiting didn't escape the foggy Jake. It was very off, he knew, for Will to do this. Even when Jake was sick, Will rarely showed this much concern. It simply wasn't in his nature.

The water, though a bit tepid, soothed his throat and cleared his head. Vague memories of burning and breathlessness came within his grasp and he frowned a bit. The recollections weren't at all clear and they confused him more than they helped him remember. Something had happened to make his brother so helpful and him so weak. But what was it?

"Th-thank you," he murmured, as Will helped him lay back once more and set the glass in its place. "Wh-where," his voice cracked and he felt himself flush, "are we?"

Will's brow furrowed and he placed his hand on Jake's forehead. Mumbling something under his breath, he looked on the table for something and in the bowl of water. He didn't find what he was looking for and bent over, searching the floor. A moment or so later, he sat up with the cloth in his hand and wetted it in the bowl. Squeezing the excess water out, he folded it and placed it on Jake's head.

Jake was frustrated that his question was avoided and forced himself to speak. "Wh-where are we, Will?"

Clearly, Will had been hoping that the cloth would fix the question. Jake had to admit that it felt nice but it wasn't bringing his memory back. "You've been very sick, Jake," Will said finally, running a hand through his hair. He still hadn't answered the question. "You had me...I was..." He stopped and looked at the ceiling. "I'm glad you are awake and your fever is down."

It wasn't the words that caused Jake to concentrate on remembering instead of finding an answer to his question. It was the tone that Will used, and his stuttering. It was also the lone tear trickling down Will's face as he focused resolutely on the roof above them. Something bad had happened. Will never behaved this way. He never showed such concern, he never used that tone. He never mother-henned like this either. Concentrating hard and wincing at the headache he had, Jake attempted to recall what had occurred as of late.

He remembered that they were in a village with a cave demon. Vaguely, he recalled fighting with Will over the magic beans comments. He had been sick then, or at least, he thought he was. _'Hidlick was hurt, wasn't he?'_ he asked himself. _'Yes- that's where it all came from.'_ From there, for a bit, he could only recall being sick and confused. He remembered being sure that he had seen Lotte and that he had spoken to her. He shuddered a bit at the idea. Had he been so sick that he had been seeing the dead, or had it just been a hallucination?

And then he remembered the monster at the end of the bed. When he was young, it had always been the monster in the chest of drawers or the monster under the bed. But, in his feverish stupor, he had seen the monster standing there, watching him with its glowing eyes and its hooded countenance. It was so vivid a memory amongst those that were limited to feelings and faint images. Again he shook and this time, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on something else. However, what he recalled next was even more frightening. It was the glowing eyes of the young man which had dragged him under coupled with the feeling of suffocation.

"There was somebody here," he whispered, following the words up with a cough. It was painful but not half as bad as he recalled.

Will looked down at him. "Eh?"

"A person, a man... he was here," Jake repeated, hoping his brother could explain it. The eyes were his only clear memory of this man and those eyes still filled him with terror.

"Ah," Will said, comprehension lighting up his face. "The doctor- he was here. But you were unconscious when he came."

Jake opened his eyes. "No," he said. "No, I w-was awake... I s-saw him. He and the th-thing at the end of the bed."

Will shook his head and moved so he was sitting back in the chair. "Jake, you were very ill. You...had some very vivid hallucinations. Whatever was at the end of your bed," he paused for a moment. "It wasn't really there."

"But the doctor was," Jake persisted, turning his head so he could see Will. "Wasn't he?"

For him, if the doctor had been here, then the thing had to have been as well. They were interrelated in his mind. One could not exist without the other. They both possessed those disturbing orbs and the strange ability to chill a person's heart. It was as though one was death and the other was death's messenger.

Will replied, "Yes, he was but you were unconscious by the time he came, Jake," he carted his fingers through his hair again. It was a bad habit. "You haven't been awake any of the times he has come."

It didn't make sense. The only clear memory he had was of the doctor and the doctor's demon. How could it be possible that he could only recall the things that he hallucinated? _'But Lotte is fuzzy in my mind,'_ he rationalized. _'And she wasn't there, was she?'_ Any way he looked at it, it didn't make sense. Nothing seemed to fit together and reality was meshing itself with dreams. With a soft groan, he closed his eyes again, this time to fend off the pounding in his head.

He felt the cloth leave his head and be replaced seconds later. It did feel nice but didn't alleviate the headache. He had overdone it, and he was paying the price. Far too much thinking after just waking up after an apparently serious illness; or at least, that was the story he had been told. As much as he loved legends and stories, it bothered him that he couldn't sort out what was true and what wasn't in his own life. He hated being told what had happened to him. It made him feel like he had no control over what occurred.

As tired and confused as he was, he had to figure out one last thing. He knew that he and Will had fought before he had "fallen ill." And he could remember seeing all the anger and frustration Will had felt for years in Will's eyes. What he couldn't remember was them making up. They had to have forgiven each other at some point, or Will wouldn't be giving him this much attention. Not as much as he hated Jake for the mistakes that Jake had made years before.

Or would he? He had seen something in his brother since he had been awake that he had never seen before. It almost seemed plausible that his brother loved him despite what he did. No, that didn't make sense. Not after they fought, not after all the lousy bean comments. There was no way that Will could possibly care this much if they had fought as badly as he thought they had.

He lay there for ages, trying to force himself back into sleep but finding it impossible. He was tired again, over stimulated from all the thinking and recollections. He had no wish to open his eyes and ask Will more questions. That would only lead to more misery and more confusion both of which he had had his fill of for the day. He was dozing when the door opened and there were footsteps echoing on the floor.

"How is he?" a frighteningly familiar voice asked.

"He woke up," Will whispered, his voice content. "He recognized me and only seemed a bit confused. He... doesn't remember much..."

"His fever was very high, Mr. Grimm. As I already told you, it's possible that he might..."

What he might or might not have or do Jake wasn't sure. The voice frightened him but with morbid curiosity, he forced his eyes to open and squinted at the person. It was the same doctor that he remembered, with the dark hair and the sallow face. He wore the tiny glasses and had the bag in his hand. His pale lips had a slight frown upon them and his eyes were focused elsewhere. But Jake could see them, just enough to take in their color.

They were not the same. There was a slightly bloodshot appearance to them, as though he had not slept in a while. _'There must be an epidemic of insomnia going around,' _Jake thought. Tiny eyelashes decorated the eyelids and thin eyebrows settled on top of the eyes in a furrowed line. The eyes were small, and a dull shade of grey. They did not glow or strike fear into his heart. No, they looked like average, ordinary eyes.

_'I must be going mad,'_ Jake thought, watching as the doctor set his bag at the end of the bed. _'He is just a normal man.'_

Something moved behind the doctor at that moment, something sinister. Once again, Jake felt the frozen feeling creep into his limbs and the breath quicken in his chest. He tried to close his eyes all the way to block it out but he was paralyzed. Standing behind the doctor was the creature, hovering. Its boney hands no longer held the weapon but were instead entwined in the doctor's hair and wrapped around his neck. It watched Jake intently, causing the young man to shudder and let out a small whimper.

"It's alright, Jake," Will comforted, patting his shoulder. "Don't be scared.

The words allowed him to turn his gaze and look at his brother. Immediately the chill lifted and warmth seeped into his skin. The shuddering stopped and the fear fled. Will was there, watching over him, smiling at him; loving him. Loving him; something Jake had been so sure that he couldn't possibly do. But those eyes and that face couldn't be false.

"I'm n-not scared," he whispered, his mind finding some sort of peace. "O-of anything...n-not even... G-godfather Death." And he drifted off into a healing sleep.

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**The End

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****Many thanks for reading this! Review please!**


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